


his guy

by oh_no_oh_dear



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Music, seriously the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 01:38:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11726811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_no_oh_dear/pseuds/oh_no_oh_dear
Summary: Because Sam can't stop humming, and Steve can't ever let something go.





	his guy

Sam was doing it again.  
  
He was always humming snatches of some song or the other (didn't much matter which one; Steve didn't recognize most of them) while he chopped vegetables, or squinted at the exposed wires in his wing pack with his lower lip caught between his teeth. He had a nice voice, low and melodious. One could call it sweet (at least until Sam tried to copy Mariah’s high notes, which he _always_ did.)  
  
Steve, on the other hand, couldn't carry a tune in a vibranium-reinforced wheelbarrow.  
  
    “It's okay,” Sam had said the first time he and Steve had gone to karaoke for a friend’s birthday. He’d continued to look slightly stunned as he added, “You can't be good at _everything,_ I guess?”

 

* * *

 

    “What's that one?” Steve asked idly, glancing up from the pile of files he was only pretending to read. Sam, who was _actually_ reading his mission dossier, _hmmm?_ ed in a distracted kind of way.  
“What were you humming?” Steve clarified. “I think I recognize it.”  
  
Sam finally looked up, peering over his reading glasses. Steve repressed a grin; he loved when Sam donned his “Professor Wilson” specs.  
  
    “Was I humming?” Sam finally asked.  
  
    “Yeah, just a second ago. Don't you remember?”  
  
Sam shook his head. “Sorry, I was pretty in the zone with the reading.” He raised an eyebrow. “Have you read more than a paragraph?”  
  
    “Nope,” Steve said easily. “Wanna get outta here?”  
  
    “No, we have a mission to prepare for,” Sam said sternly. Steve cranked up the blue-eyed earnestness just a bit and Sam groaned. “Jesus, not _the look._ Fine, after this page we can take a break. But just an hour, right?”  
  
Steve grinned a little wickedly at his boyfriend.  
  
Their break lasted the rest of the evening.  
 

* * *

 

    “Okay, it goes like-- _hmm hmm hmmm lalala hm hm hm-hm-hmmm hmmm hm-hmmm…_ ”  
  
    “Baby, I'm pretty sure no song on earth has ever sounded like that.”  
  
    “You keep humming it, and you never realize you're doing it, and it's _only_ when we're alone!”  
  
    “It's a conspiracy, Steve.”  
  
    “Wh--”  
  
    “I'm joking, man. You need to spend less time around Barnes; you're getting paranoid.”

 

* * *

 

    “You think it's some kinda code or somethin’?”  
  
    “I don't think so, but it keeps happening and I'm climbing the walls!”  
  
    “I can tell you one thing, Steve…”  
  
    “Yeah, Buck?”  
  
    “Maybe wait until we’re _not_ rappelling down a cliff to get all weird about your boyfriend humming a damn song?”

 

* * *

   
    “ _You’re doing it again_ ,” Steve muttered. Sam didn't hear him; he was tinkering with their Roomba to make it more efficient or something.

* * *

  
    “Are you doing it on purpose?” he asked wanly, a week and a half later. Sam had stopped humming the song _again_ not 5 minutes before, and again, he seemed to be surprised that he'd been humming at all.  
“Are you messing with me?” Steve continued, a little sullen.  
  
    “That'd be a pretty weak joke to drag out for days,” Sam shrugged. He was distracted, writing an email to his mother.  
  
    “It's been three weeks!”  
  
    “Steve, I promise you, I'm not … I dunno, hum-trolling you.”  
  
    “You lost me at the end, there.”  
  
    “Never mind, old-timer.”  
  
    “You obviously have a thing for older men, so I'm not going to complain.”  
  
    “Shut up.”

    "Make me, Wilson," Steve grinned. He pushed aside the humming thing for now, his eyes lighting up when Sam returned his smile.

* * *

   
    “Record him next time he does it,” Fury said flatly.  
  
    “Record-- that's a great idea!”  
  
    “Glad you think so. Now, what was the urgent issue you needed to see me about?”

    “Uh.”  
  
    “Don't tell me it was about this, Rogers. About the humming thing.”  
  
    “I'll see myself out, sir.”

* * *

   
Steve smiled a little to himself as he played the recording back; Sam’s voice was a little tinny over the phone speakers, but Steve had at least gotten a good 20 seconds of the song before Sam had left for work that morning.  
  
_  
_   
  
  
  
  
Hm... not quite what he was looking for. Steve frowned and tried again:  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Still no luck. Sam was so much better at this googling thing, but Steve wanted to figure this out himself. Wasn't he supposed to be a master strategist, dammit?  
  
  
  
  
Jackpot.  
  
Steve’s face lit up when Sam’s recording was matched within seconds online. And then he went a little pink in the face, because that was… honestly really, really nice. And then he started laughing, because Sam Wilson was as big a sap as Steve was. He had  _proof_ now.

* * *

  
    “Okay, I know S.H.I.E.L.D. has deep pockets, but if I shred _one more suit_ I’m gonna--” Sam cut short, halfway through a mini-tirade against his employers (it was his way of saying ‘hi’ on particularly trying days.) There was music playing in the living room. Really, really _loud_ [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4WT7nBGX5eU). He recognized the song just as Steve slid into view, pointing right at Sam with a big troublemaker grin on his face.  
“Wh--”  
  
_“-- like birds of a feather, we…”_  
  
    “Oh, _god--”_  
  
_“...stick together,”_ Steve sang in a truly distressing falsetto along with Mary Wells. Sam was fighting a losing battle against a laugh bubbling up, because Steve was ridiculous. He was still in his sweatpants and Sam’s old college t-shirt and clearly spent some time choreographing his little performance. He was _almost_ on-beat when he did a little spin and shimmied his broad shoulders, swaying over to where Sam was still standing, shield in hand.  
  
    “Is this what I’ve been singing?” Sam laughed, setting down the shield and allowing Steve to pull him into a clumsy little two-step.  
  
_“Nothing you could do could make me untrue to my guy,”_ Steve sang in reply, clearly determined to be a little shit as always. Sam sputtered out a laugh as Steve twirled him, but-- hey. There were worse ways to be greeted after a long day fighting monsters.  
  
_“No musclebound man could take my hand from my guy,”_ Sam crooned, much more on-key than Steve. Steve raised his eyebrows and then doubled over with a wheeze when Sam poked him in the stomach.  
  
    “You’re such a dumbass,” Sam said loudly over the music. Steve finally let him go, smirking.  
  
    “Ah, but apparently this dumbass is _your guy_ , so--”  
  
    “True,” Sam sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve got questionable taste.” Then, he sighed. "I gotta shower the day off," he said. He didn't even have to ask if Steve wanted to join him.  
  
Steve helped Sam ease the wing pack off his shoulders and trailed him to the bathroom. The song continued playing on a loop in the living room, but one could just about make out the muffled voices coming from behind the partially-closed door.  
  
    “That one line about not being a movie star, though…”  
  
    “Oh my god, Steve--”  
  
    “I’m just saying! I was in quite a few films, so _technically_ …”  
  
    “You’re right. I’m dating the star -- _the_ star -- of ‘Cap Fights The Clap!’ and all the other girls are _just so jealous_.”  
  
    “Well, they oughta be. I can still recite that one line for line.”  
  
    “Oh, baby. You always know how to sweet-talk me,” Sam drawled. Steve laughed, Sam let out a breathless chuckle, and there was the sound of shuffling fabric shortly before the shower cut on and the laughter and murmured conversation took on another tone altogether.

* * *

  
    “-- _but when it comes to being happy, we are_ ,” Steve sang under his breath the next morning as he nuzzled Sam’s neck. It was worth the soft smile on Sam’s face, even if Sam immediately followed it with a half-heartedly thrown pillow because Steve insisted on singing the rest of the song, offkey and in a warbling falsetto.  
  
Sam could deal with horrible singing for the rest of his life, if Steve was the one making him wince. 


End file.
